


To Love Another

by EnigmaticJester



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Belly Dancing, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Hand Feeding, Past Rape/Non-con, Romance, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Acceptance, Slavery, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 08:35:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11376522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnigmaticJester/pseuds/EnigmaticJester
Summary: Overflowing with passion but plagued by shame and self-doubt, Morgiana struggles to express her feelings to the man who granted her a new life.  A cathartic night of seduction invites her to explore all of these emotions in the company of her beloved.





	To Love Another

**To Love Another**

                Beautiful.

                The word echoed in Morgiana’s mind, drowning out all the noises of the festival.  The entire crowd cheered for her, but their voices meant little more than the sound of the distant waves crashing along the Sindrian shore.

                She had scampered up the steps in a fit of passion, not wholly aware what she planned to do.  But she had seen those other girls:  lithe, fair, _beautiful_.  They adorned themselves in floral ornaments and ceremonial masks, merrily showcasing their bodies to any and all onlookers.  The people here lived freely, so they could dance to their hearts’ content.  Their joy seemed foreign to Morgiana, but for a brief instant, she felt her heart harmonize with the celebration.

                She had donned a dancer’s outfit before the evening started, but she could never have foreseen herself getting up in front of everyone and participating in the alien ritual.  The loose-fitting cloth twirled around her as she skipped across the stage.  Her muscular legs brushed against an embroidered loincloth that dangled well below her knees.  A pair of thin, fluttering curtains bridged the gap between her waist and breasts, barely contained by a skimpy makeshift brassiere.  She lacked the endowment boasted by many of the other girls, but her breasts had a natural perk to them that still drew the eyes of various admirers.

                But there was only one person whose opinion she regarded.  Alibaba’s kind words had prompted her to do this stupid thing, and now she was up here, on full display, shaking her body.  Morgiana couldn’t find any other way to release this strange restless energy that had taken hold of her.  A blissful giddiness overtook her.  Her cheeks swelled with a crimson hue.  Her knees shook.  She felt like she was standing on hot coals.  Her feet had long been her tools and weapons, but suddenly they developed a mind of their own.  Some primal instinct compelled her to dance.

                She had absolutely no idea what she was doing, but she hardly cared.  Her bare feet rhythmically tapped against the cold stone floor.  Her pirouettes took on a much faster pace than the other girls, despite being weighted down by heavy golden bangles around her ankles.  A pair of matching bejeweled bracelets closed around her wrists, shining exuberantly with the carefree, spastic waves of her arms.  Her flimsy dress hovered apart from her pale skin, caught in the crisp island air like the sails on a barge.  Its rampant waving was matched by a loose, jingling chain connecting a ring between her cleavage to a gilded choker at the base of her neck.

                The cuffs.  The chains.  The crowd.  Unpleasant memories intruded on Morgiana’s mind, replacing blind sensations of passion with traumatic recollections.  All of this seemed eerily reminiscent of her time on the slave market.  She had been marched before a crowd not unlike this one.  She remembered how she quaked in fear, naked and bound for prospective buyers’ inspections.  Her cries and tears had reached no one.  She was stripped of her family, carted off to the house of a sadistic nobleman, and endured years of endless abuse at the hands of her cruel master.  The sudden resurgence of these thoughts caused her to momentarily stumble, almost losing her footing.

                The sudden jostling restored her awareness of the current situation.  She was safe.  She was free.  But for how long?  Would these memories haunt her for the rest of her days?  Would they pollute even a momentary happiness, like this one?

                Morgiana glanced out to the crowd.  Hundreds of eyes remained fixed on her, waiting for her to continue the impromptu performance.  She regained her composure, brushed herself off, and spun around.  The crowd started cheering once more.  A cautious smile crept across her face.  For the first time in her life, she was an object of admiration.  Regardless of the crowd’s prurient interest in her, for once she felt like more like a rare desert flower than an expendable slave.  And for a moment, Morgiana thought that was the most she could ask for.

                But then she noticed Alibaba, standing a few rows away from the stage, his face beaming.  He cupped his hands around his mouth and exclaimed something that was almost lost amidst the background of music and revelry.  But it reached her nonetheless.  The words lit up the night like a seaside beacon.

                “You’re beautiful, Morgiana!”

                Beautiful.  She couldn’t believe it.  Her lips parted involuntarily, revealing a smile wider than any she could remember having.  Her world flooded with color, overwhelming in its vibrancy, as striking as the bouquet of flowers nestled in her magenta hair.  All of her doubts faded away.  Her life _had_ changed.  Here she stood, nearly naked before a crowd of strangers in a foreign land, and yet she felt no shame.  This was different from the slave market.  That life was over.  He had given her a new one.  He had given her worth.

                No.  He had shown her the worth that she _always_ had.

                Rejuvenated and rejoicing, Morgiana danced more wildly than before.  Her hips swayed to the beat of the accompanying bongos.  She balanced on one leg like a flamingo, extending her other leg to show off her magnificent foot.  A small brass ring circled her index toe, drawing attention to it with its marvelous luster.  Her loincloth was draped over her outstretched knee, briefly and inadvertently flashing her tight undergarments to a few lucky onlookers.  Morgiana quickly broke out of the pose, marginally embarrassed, but suffering no damage to her enjoyment.

                Her toned abdomen glistened with sweat as it gyrated in and out, mimicking the shimmying motions of a serpent.  Morgiana had heard of such techniques before, and quickly found herself to be a natural.  Her hips shook what little baby fat remained on her belly, winking her exquisite navel teasingly.  This body was hers, and she realized that she had nothing to be ashamed of.  The whistles and cheers from the boisterous crowd grew more emphatic, and Morgiana responded by dancing even more intensely.  She swung her arms, spun in a figure-eight, tugged on the edges of her pelvic curtains to reveal her thighs, and wiggled her breasts in a manner that engendered envy even in the more buxom girls.  Everyone else had taken backstage.  The show was all about her now.

                And yet Alibaba’s words were the only thing on her mind.  Her heart pounded at the thought of him.  All the sounds of the night metamorphosed into a chorus of his comment.  Beautiful.  The thought of it instilled her with an energy that even dancing couldn’t contain.  She felt a tingling in the back of her head, an itch she couldn’t scratch, a hunger without a name, enough to drive someone mad.  And in her gut she felt an unquenchable desire to be with him. 

                All of her senses converged in a myopic obsession with this strange feeling.  The drumbeats.  The bells.  The clapping.  Her pounding heart.  Beautiful.  Beautiful.  Beautiful.  Beautiful.

                She had to share her newfound love for her body with him; that much she knew.  She had no idea how to approach him, or even if a lowly ex-slave had any place in courting a king-to-be.  But she had to try.  She could no more live with this burning desire unfulfilled than she could return to the dreadful shackles of slavery.  He had given her meaning.  She would give him pleasure.  It was the least she could do.

                Her routine concluded with a final twirl as she spiraled down onto one knee, her arms open and beckoning to the audience.  She flung her head upwards to gaze at the gibbous moon above, momentarily soaking in the cheers and applause as she caught her breath.  She feared she may have pushed herself too hard.  Beads of sweat glistened across the landscape of her skin like pearls in sand.  Her breasts heaved in and out in tandem with the unbridled beating of her heart and anxious churning in her stomach.  She could hardly tell her fatigue from her nerves.  Not even the caresses of the Sindrian breeze could keep the heat from rising to her forehead.   

                Morgiana stood up, bowed to her unexpected admirers, and quietly descended the steps to join the body of the partygoers.  It didn’t take long for her to pick Alibaba out of the crowd.  A drunken reveler was playfully nudging him in the ribs, and he was laughing and slapping the man’s shoulder.  Morgiana wondered if they were joking about her performance or something else entirely.  It didn’t matter.  She couldn’t afford to back off at this point.  She pushed her way through the crowd, which now had its attention drawn to some other lovely lady dancing by the fire pit.

                By the time she emerged from the mob of rustling bodies, Alibaba’s inebriated companion had departed, leaving the young, wayward prince of Balbadd alone in a bazaar of festive decorations and exotic scents.  He glanced around the retrofitted marketplace, feverishly rubbing his hands together.  He looked completely out of place.  Morgiana realized that this type of event must be just as foreign to him as it was to her.  They were both far away from their homelands, exploring an island they’d barely heard about with a culture they hardly could’ve conceived.

                Morgiana approached him unnoticed and tugged gently on his right arm.  His head whipped around, failing to make eye contact at first on account of him being almost a head taller than her.  The startled expression on his lips faded when he saw her, transforming into a sheepish smile.

                “You were absolutely amazing up there, Morgiana.”

                A flood of panic seized her.  Her mouth went dry.  Whatever words she had prepared to share with him were lost now.  She summoned up all of her courage to respond.

                “T-Thank you so much.  You have… no idea what that means to me.”  Morgiana’s eyes widened as she fixated on his handsome countenance.  A part of her wanted to turn away and bury her head in sand, but she was frozen stiff.  She stood there, transfixed by Alibaba’s striking amber eyes, for what seemed like an eternity.  He did the same.

                It was a stalemate.

                Finally, Alibaba rubbed the back of his head and emitted a confused, “Umm…” before his own cheeks turned red with embarrassment.  There was a pregnant pause.  Morgiana knew that she had to do something now, but she couldn’t think straight.  She blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.

                “There are some tents set up over there.  They’re private.  All guests are free to use them.  Would you like to… go there?  Together?  Only if you want to, I mean.”

                An astonished smile crossed Alibaba’s face.  Morgiana knew his answer before he said it.  He grasped her hand tightly and started off in the direction of the conjugal tents. 

                Morgiana trailed just behind him, noticing the slick coating on his palm.  He was hardly cool about this.  She wondered how much experience he actually had at this sort of thing.  If this was his first time, she had to make it special. 

                A lump formed in her throat.  She was starting to get cold feet.  Maybe this was a bad idea.  These doubts lingered until the couple came upon their tent.

                There was no turning back now.

                The pair crept into a cushioned sanctum draped in animal furs and smelling of incense and lilacs.  Two layers of curtains parted at their entrance and presently returned to their previous embraces– a thick one to shield from weather and unwanted voyeurs, and a semi-translucent one that instilled a wintery, dreamlike quality to the chamber.

                Morgiana and Alibaba stood motionless for a moment, unsure how to proceed.  Noticing a bowl of grapes, perhaps left there by the concierge, or even a previous occupants, Morgiana stepped forward and scooped the tiny fruits out by the stem.  Without words, she motioned for Alibaba to lie down among the tapestry of bleached furs.  He complied, though not without nervous hesitation.

                Morgiana had little experience in the art of foreplay.  She had never known her own culture, and had only watched courtship rituals of free people from within her contemptuous cage.  She had no idea how to please him aside from careful, servile indulgence in his pleasures.

                “Are you hungry?” she asked.

                “Excuse me?”  Alibaba wasn’t prepared for the question.

                “I’m going to feed you.”  Morgiana delicately pulled a black grape off the bundle and extended it toward the reclining prince.  “Here.  Please open your mouth.”

                Alibaba’s lips parted, his cheeks stained by an awkward blush.  Her fingers descended into his maw as his hot breath wafted over them.  She gently deposited the tiny fruit on his moist tongue and withdrew her hand.  Alibaba savored its flavor for a moment before fully consuming it.

                He smiled.  She smiled.  She got more grapes.

                The awkwardness of the situation thinned as they carried on more and more.  Alibaba graduated from meager nibbles to eating right off the stem that Morgiana audaciously dangled above his mouth.  He had gotten more comfortable, that much was clear.  Morgiana felt relieved, knowing she was going about this in the right direction.

                She turned her gaze upon the other paraphernalia lying about the tent, eager to further service her prince.  There were beads and an assortment of other knick-knacks whose function she could only imagine.  She shuddered at the sight of a few chains and shackles, tucked away in the corner.  Even in her submissive mindset, she had limits.

                Then she found it.  An ornate, sapphire-encrusted fan capped with ostrich feathers.  She returned her focus to Alibaba and deposited the grapes in a bedside bowl.  She entreated him to wait one moment.

                By the time she retrieved the fan and returned, Alibaba had taken it upon himself to resume his snacking with his own hands.  Morgiana bent down on one knee and straightened her shoulders, raising her saintly headdress.  With a coy grin, she started softly waving her avian instrument, wafting cool air through Alibaba’s golden locks.  A trio of wax candles, slightly removed from the bedding area, caught the backend of the draft, their flaming crowns dancing like Morgiana had before.  But neither party’s fire would be extinguished.

                After a few minutes of sensuous fanning, Alibaba lifted his head and locked eyes with her.  He cautiously extended his hand and placed it on her wrist, halting her movement.  She froze.

                “Morgiana, why are you doing this?  I mean, it’s amazing, and I’m really grateful, but I’m not sure this is necessary, you know?”

                She wasn’t sure what to say.  Had she gone too far?  Maybe he hadn’t liked it as much as she thought.  Or maybe the time for foreplay was over.

                “I just want to make you happy,” she whispered.  “If you’re ready, then…” she said, reaching behind her back to undo her top, “Then you can take me.”

                The loose fabrics that clung to her upper body collapsed to the floor.  She knelt before him, bare-breasted and ravishing.  Though not tremendous, her breasts still had a distinct volume to them, made more fabulous by the glistening sweat that still coated the fleshy orbs.  Succulent nipples, sporting a reddish-pink hue that matched her hair, marked the center of her lovely bulbous fruits.  They were orbited by slightly larger than average areolas, covered in tiny bumps that currently stood at attention.  Her belly moved in and out with her suddenly harried breath, gyrating her previously exposed but nonetheless delectable navel.

                Alibaba’s face was rendered totally static, plastered in awe.  His mouth hung agape and his throat quickly dried.  Morgiana noticed a smaller tent emerge between Alibaba’s legs.  The crotch of his pants rose upwards as a stiff erection channeled blood into his loins.  If she could be sure of one thing, Morgiana reassured herself that he was definitely aroused.

                His face snapped back to normal, unprepared but nevertheless excited at the prospect of their impending carnal union.  He struggled to remove his own shirt, catching it on his chin and flailing about helplessly.  Morgiana giggled at the display, but quickly put a hand to her mouth so as not to embarrass him.

                “Here,” she uttered, loosening his belt and tugging at the edges of his trousers.  She removed his pants, uncovering his large, engorged member.  The shaft was longer and thicker than any she had seen before; certainly bigger than she would’ve expected from someone his size.  Bulging blue veins mapped channels of hot blood that lent themselves to the staff’s red coloration.  On top of all of this was a scarlet-rimmed crown shaped like an elongated dome, like the roof of an exotic palace.

                Alibaba’s erect penis pointed forward to greet her.  She felt invited to remove her own genital coverings as well.  Her eyes remained transfixed on him even as she wrestled to unravel her needlessly complex raiment.  He had finally succeeded in doffing his shirt, so now both of his heads eagerly watched her disrobe.  His chest was small, and his shoulders weren’t broad, but his athleticism and manliness were still denoted by his toned abdominal muscles and near total absence of body fat.  His own nipples barely stood out on the landscape of his pectorals – definitely nowhere near Morgiana’s size.  In truth, the prince’s thin body betrayed a boyish handsomeness that appealed to Morgiana.  She’d had enough of harder men, anyhow.

                At last, she dropped her loincloth and undergarments.  With a coquettish smile, she uncrossed her legs, finally prepared to reveal her womanhood to Alibaba.

                But his expression shifted.  His brow furrowed.  His lips contorted in surprise and confusion.

                “You’re not a virgin,” he said, monotone.

                Morgiana had never been so ashamed in her life.  She cast her glance downwards.  She couldn’t look at him.  She couldn’t look at herself.  All she could see were her foolishly discarded undergarments.

                “No,” she muttered.  “I’m not.”  She bent down and gathered up her clothes.  This was a stupid idea.  She should’ve known better.  A slave, even a freed one, has no right to court a prince.  Her race was a disgrace.  Her caste was a disgrace.  Her body was a disgrace.  She clutched the white garments against her groin, hoping to hide her shame.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have done this.  I’ll go now.”

                “Wait!” Alibaba stopped her before she could leave.  She didn’t turn around, though.  “Morgiana!”  She couldn’t bear to meet his gaze.  He stood up and gently rested his hand on her shoulder.  “Please.  You’re hurt.  I’m sorry.  Tell me what happened.”

                She glanced back at him.  Her eyes were already welling with tears, but even through the mist she could distinguish the earnest compassion on Alibaba’s face.  She wiped her face once and sniffed, attempting to compose herself.

                “The young master – I mean, Lord Jamil… came of age while I was in his service.”

                Alibaba didn’t say anything.  How could he?  This kind of pain, this manner of violation was beyond his capacity to understand.  But he listened intently.  Pangs of sympathy and second-hand guilt consumed him.  He wanted to help her.

                “I know there wasn’t anything I could do,” she continued.  “I know it’s not my fault.  But still…” Her emotions peaked.  She couldn’t contain her tears any longer.  “The only time I’ve been touched was at the edge of a sword!  I’ve never felt the tenderness of another, and maybe I’m not meant to!  But I want to be touched by someone who loves me!  I want to be worthy of that!”  Her voice quieted.  “More than anything, I want to love you.  And be loved by you.”

                For a minute, nobody spoke.  The couple never took their eyes off each other.  Finally, Alibaba stepped forward.  He wrapped his arms around her and embraced her.

                “I’m so sorry,” he said.  “I love you.  If you’ll let me, I’ll help you get rid of that shame.  I would never want to hurt you, Morgiana.  I love you more than you can imagine.  What was done to you is monstrous, but I won’t let it destroy you.  I love you.  I love you.  I love you.”

                With each utterance, he squeezed harder and harder.  She joined him, letting go of the fabrics shielding her loins.  They clutched each other together.  Naked.  Their genitals casually rubbed against one another, unbiased even after the exposure of her defilement.  They remained there, locked in a compassionate embrace.  A mutual desire swelled in both of their hearts, though it was distinct from the lascivious passion that burned in them minutes before.  This was something personal.  Something transcendent and sacred.  Alibaba whispered in her ear.

                “You’re beautiful, Morgiana.”

                “I…” she struggled to say anything.  Expressions of gratitude and love materialized and vanished before she could assemble the words.  Her tongue moved on a separate wavelength from her mind.  She loosened her grasp on him and placed one of her hands over her left breast.  “You would still have me?  After everything?”

                Alibaba gently peeled her hand away from her body and clasped it between his own.

                “There’s nothing in the world I want more.  But only if you’re ready.  I _want_ you to want this for yourself.  You deserve that kind of love.  Not just from me, but from you.”

                A harvest of amorous redness blossomed on Morgiana’s cheeks.  Her grieving tears disappeared in a tide of elation.  Her heart pumped faster and harder than anything she’d felt before – though it was likely to be surpassed within the next few minutes.

                She didn’t need words to answer him.  She squeezed her fingers in between his and leaned in.  Alibaba pressed his mouth around her lips, and the pair began passionately kissing.  Her clumsy tongue, frustratingly useless to her until this point, tangoed with her partner’s, twisting and contorting as they shared the pleasures of their mouths. 

                Connected by both hands and lips, the two tumbled onto the bedding, their riotous writhing uninterrupted.  Alibaba’s manhood had swollen to its fullest length amidst the kissing, and was now prepared to enter Morgiana’s inner sanctum.  Its repeated brushings against the smooth buds of her groin prompted her sex to lubricate itself in anticipation.

                Tightening her firm buttocks just above his knees, Morgiana aligned her sheath with his throbbing scepter and slowly slid it inside of her.  The sensation defied description.  The warm, hardened muscle squeezed inside her, stimulating her in ways she could never have imagined.  The impact was so visceral, so demanding of attention that she completely lost herself in it.  She couldn’t think about her past, even if she wanted to.  All that existed was this moment and the feeling of pure ecstasy it bestowed.

                She timed the gyration of her hips with Alibaba’s thrusts, plunging his penis deeper and deeper inside of her.  He squeezed her hands tighter.  His mouth emitted primal grunts of pleasure, but there was something far nobler in the look on his eyes.  He was gazing at her from below, reverently, as if her station eclipsed his own.  Morgiana couldn’t recall anyone looking at her like this, but there was no sign of ignorance or condescension on Alibaba’s face.  He was grateful for this.  Grateful for the chance to please her.

                Arching his back forward, Alibaba resumed kissing his beloved partner.  With one hand still tightly gripping her fingers, he moved the other to trace the contours of her body.  He massaged her juicy breasts, stroked the length of her muscular abdomen, and stimulated her vulva with soft petting.

                Morgiana moaned louder as her pleasure peaked.  Their copulative motions grew more intense.  Splashes of vaginal excretions escaped her lower lips and coated the shaft of Alibaba’s penis.  A slight bit of drool involuntarily leaked from her mouth, which she would’ve found embarrassing if she hadn’t been captivated by their rhapsodic intercourse. 

                Morgiana’s sweaty buttocks bounced up and down, not far from Alibaba’s vibrating scrotum.  His pelvic pole probed further into her damp sleeve, pounding her cervical wall like a drum.  Her belly spasmed, jiggling her breasts up and down.  They clapped against her skin as they bounced, with fleshy slapping noises accompanying their undulations.  She gripped his shoulders and flung her head around to clear the curtain of hair that obscured the view of her lover.  Fluttering strands of her red coral crown conducted a symphony of unprecedented carnal delight. 

                Their frantic dives of pleasure persisted for several minutes.  Finally, the two lovers climaxed in unison.  Alibaba’s face contorted as he squeezed out his male secretions.  Morgiana let out a high-pitched yelp and tightened the muscles of her vaginal walls, constricting around Alibaba’s member in a proverbial death grip.  Her knees locked.  Her toes curled.  A surge of hot, syrupy liquid streamed into her.  It felt like a warm bath for her insides.  Alibaba’s cylinder fired again and again, pumping his lover’s privates full of the creamy fluid.

                They remained coupled for a minute, attempting to catch their breath and unmindful of the viscous liquids sticking to them.  Eventually, Alibaba’s pole softened, and he withdrew it from its comfortable dwelling in Morgiana’s loins.  It slid out with a mild squelch as air escaped her vagina.  He let out a contented sigh before reclining on the bedding.

                Morgiana collapsed on her back, her face marked by the signature of post-coital bliss.  She huffed, giggled, and crossed her legs, relishing the seminal draught soaking within her.  She didn’t have to worry about getting pregnant at this time of the month, but just the thought of carrying Alibaba’s princely juices, the golden sire of his body, filled her with giddy pride and affection.

                Breaking her out of her fantasies, Alibaba rested his sturdy forearm around the length of her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.  His snake had lost his rigidity, but not its volume.  It drooped and coiled its immense mass on top of Morgiana’s upper thigh, oozing slightly with the remnants of their lovemaking.  He turned and kissed her forehead.

                “I love you,” he said.  “Will you stay with me?  I mean, even if I become king?”

                Morgiana blinked, fluttering her delicate eyelashes.  “I would be honored to be your concubine.”

                “I won’t allow that,” he retorted sternly.  He moved closer and whispered in her ear.  “When the time comes, you’ll be my queen.”

                Morgiana blushed and embraced him.  He planted a kiss on her forehead.  A peaceful smile crept across her face.  She raised her thigh and twisted her legs in a knot with his.  They relished in the warm breaths they traded between their faces.  Morgiana cooed a soft humming sound as she nuzzled her head beneath the crease of his neck.     

                As they drifted to sleep in each other’s arms, Morgiana comforted herself with the confirmation that she had met the perfect match.  This was where she belonged.  He showed her tenderness of which she thought herself undeserving.  She loved him, and now, she loved herself.

                She stole one last glance of his sleeping face before joining him in slumber.

                “We’re beautiful, Morgiana,” she muttered.


End file.
